It’s a freezing cold Monday in January. Juan came over last night, he watched half of The Wire and then we watched the rest of season three of Weeds. Today he goes back to Ewing for his off campus life. Hopefully they have heat down there since it’s presently 25 degrees which is the high for the day. Barometric pressure is out of control, clear blue skies, courtesy of a Siberian wind. I picture Juan living in a ramshackle house, peeling paint, bare light bulbs, cold wind blowing through the slats of the house. I’m sure it’s not like that at all.
Right now I am watching Edge of the City, a film from 1957 starring Sidney Poitier and John Cassavetes, directed by Martin Ritt. Pretty good, edgy, jazz score. Sidney playing the cool uptown cat and John Cassavetes the guy harboring a secret. Of course it being the 50’s, Sidney has to die and Cassavetes has to find some sort of gritty redemption.
Before that was A Patch of Blue, once again with Sidney Poitier, and Shelley Winters and Elizabeth Hartman. I remember that being on Channel 4′ s 4:30 Movie. They always seemed to show A Patch of Blue once a year and this was the first time I saw it and understood it. It may also have made an impression on me when I was growing up, seeing how ugly racism could be and also how some disabled people like Selena the blind girl in A Patch of Blue could be abused and mistreated. And how noble a regular person can be.
Man, that Shelley Winters was horrible. I mean she was good but her character was just horrible. She pulled it off and won a best supporting actress Academy Award. A ‘happy’ ending to the melodrama, but Elizabeth Hartman had a tragic life though. The acting parts dried up, she was manic depressive and jumped off a bridge in the 80’s. Such an affected performance. I am watching Turner Classic Moves more and more these days. Sidney Poitier turned 81 yesterday.
Back to work tomorrow, a four day work week which is something quite easy to get used to, but that ain’t going to happen. I’m sure I would complain about having to work four days after a while. Whittle it down to one day and I’d moan about that too. Then, if I had nothing but days off, I’d complain about not having any work to do. Ok, that might be a stretch. I’m thinking if I was wealthy enough not to work, which should happen, any day now.
On Friday I am going to see my first Samuel Beckett play, Happy Days. From what I gather, it mainly takes place at a hamburger stand in late 1950’s suburban Milwaukee. Oh and the cast are buried up to their waist in act one, up to their neck in act two.
Today is a day off, in honor of the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, a great man. I’m sure you would agree.
